


Enter Bambi's Mother, Downstage Left

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Art is a reasonable explanation for everything, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hank is long-suffering, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Taxidermy, Theatre, if all the world's a stage the tech crew must be gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex Summers did not realize that majoring in theatre would involve quite so many taxidermied deer, crazy scenic designers and grumpy head electricians.  He would have majored in theatre anyway, but he still wishes he had some sort of cosmic warning ahead of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enter Bambi's Mother, Downstage Left

Alex was going to _kill_ Charles. Which was unfortunate, because that would probably lead to Professor Fury killing _him_ , if Erik didn’t finish him off first. 

            Gritting his teeth and choking down the near-irresistible urge to murder Xavier the next time he saw that smug bastard (which really, would never happen, the jackass would just beam at him, all enthusiastic and charming and Alex would feel like gum on the sidewalk for ever harboring a shred of ill-will towards him), Alex picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the tenth in a long list of phone numbers. (Charles had ‘helpfully’ provided the list, the student scenic designer beaming at Alex and saying, “I did a bit of googling and these look like places that might have what we’re looking for.  Thanks so much for doing this, you’re wonderful.”  And then the bastard had wandered off to go harass the scenic studio or mix paint or practice smiling… or whatever it was annoyingly cheery upperclassmen did in their spare time.  Frankly, Alex didn’t want to know.) 

Alex was seriously regretting agreeing to work props for this show.  Never mind that all majors were _required_ to fill a role of some kind on all the shows and Alex hadn’t _really_ had that much choice in the matter.  He still liked to pretend he had a shred of free will left that hadn’t been subsumed by the theatre department.  He drummed a pen against the tabletop, waiting for someone to pick up. The dial tone buzzed in his ear, another annoying layer on the crap-cake today had turned into.

Finally someone’s grouchy voice filtered through the phone’s speakers, “Sportsman’s Warehouse-”

Alex cut the guy off before he could say anything else, “Hello, I’m a theatre student at the university and we have a problem.  We require a deer.  Do you have one we could rent?”

         Understandably, the conversation deteriorated from there.

…

         Three hours later, Alex’s deer problems were not solved.  “I don’t know if you know this, but we actually _do_ have a stuffed deer.  Dead, not plush.”

         “Why would I think it was plush?” Hank asked, not looking up from the sound equipment he was…doing something with.  Alex knew how to hang and focus and cable lights but he didn’t know shit about sound. That did not stop Hank from trying to explain it to him, at length, on several occasions; nor did it stop Erik Lehnsherr, upperclassman, terror of the department (and possible future Phantom of the Opera if they weren’t careful), not to mention, Head Electrician, from judging him for his lack of knowledge. 

         “I don’t know? Why would you think it was dead?” Alex shrugged, picking up the ends of some cables that trailed on the floor behind Hank as the other boy carried the bundle down the hall.

         “Because taxidermy is more durable than plush?” Hank pointed out skeptically, punching in the code for the dimmer room with the coils of cable improbably balanced in the crook of one arm.

         “Why would it need to be durable?” Alex asked, pushing the door open for him when Hank tried, unsuccessfully, to prop it open with his foot.

         “…How the hell are you props manager?” Hank demanded, now crouched on the floor and sorting through boxes of plugs, peering up at him with both eyebrows raised. 

         “I don’t fucking know, man, but I’m going to kill Xavier.”  Alex shrugged.

         “Hrm,” Hank made an noncommittal noise, “Let me know when Erik skins you alive.  Oh wait, you won’t be able to do that, you’ll be dead.”

         Alex sighed dramatically, “I’m not _actually_ gonna kill him. He’d just look at me with those big eyes and I’d feel bad.  Killing him would be like kicking a puppy.” 

         “Just more illegal,” Hank pointed out flatly, returning the box of plugs to the shelf it came from. Apparently whatever mysterious sound-related thing he wanted wasn’t in there.

         “No…” Alex stretched out the word, “I think animal cruelty’s illegal too.”

         “Not what I meant,” Hank sighed and exited the dimmer room, Alex on his heels. 

         “Speaking of animal-related cruelty, let me finish telling you about this stupid deer. So, we have one. Unfortunately, it’s been decapitated. To reattach its head we’d have to drill holes in it and pike it on a dowel.”

         “Barbaric,” Hank muttered, but Alex didn’t pay attention to that.  Just like he didn’t pay attention to the fact that they were ascending some steep, familiar steps…and oh, hey, they were on the grid. And Hank was walking off to go fiddle with a speaker he’d hung yesterday. 

         Alex decided to continue with his deer story.  “The head thing’s not so bad.  The real problem is the fact that the thing’s been shaved.  And we don’t want a naked deer on stage.”

         “Gotta monitor that deer nudity,” Hank muttered absently, continuing to fiddle with his speaker. Alex was starting to feel ignored. It was not a nice feeling. He kicked Hank’s shins irritably.

         “Pay attention.”

         “Naked deer.”

         “Yeah, naked deer. Well, it’s not all the way naked. They didn’t shave the whole thing. Just some places. It’s sort of…patchy and balding now.”

         “Pilgarlic,” Hank muttered.

         “Huh?”

         “It’s a word; means a balding man.”

         “I think it’s a doe.”

         Hank started to hum that dumb ‘do, a deer’ song from _The Sound of Music_ and Alex almost, but didn’t quite, kick him again.  Mostly because Julie Andrews was a goddess and he kind of loved every movie she’d ever made.  Not that he’d ever tell anyone.  He had some pride. 

         “To add insult to injury,” Alex did not _whine_ , because whining was _not_ manly or cool, “One of the ears is partially broken off and we’d have to splint it. Also I think it’s missing an eye.”

         No response from Hank. Alex sighed dramatically and plopped down onto the grid next to where his friend was working.  “I spent three fucking hours calling random strangers asking to borrow their deer carcasses. Charles _owes_ me.” 

         “Charles is the scenic designer. Charles does what he wants,” Hank pointed out.

         “See? This is why we shouldn’t have student designers.  The power goes to their heads.”

         “See how you feel next year when you’re a junior,” Hank suggested.

         Alex grumbled and rolled back until he was lying face-up, enjoying the slight springy-ness of the industrial-strength wire tension grid beneath his back. 

         “Stop that,” Hank said absently.

         “I talked to the assistant store manager at Sportsman’s Warehouse,” Alex concluded his story, “he doesn’t have a problem with lending us one of their deer…but apparently he’s not authorized to lend out the store’s dead deer.  Or live ones. If they have those.” Alex flopped an arm over his eyes, “Ugh, I’m gonna have fucking nightmares about taxidermy.”

         “On the bright side, at least you know what happened to Bambi’s mother now,” Hank said dryly.

         Alex gaped at him, “You are a sick bastard, McCoy.”

         Hank gave him a sly smile and returned to his speaker. 

         Alex was still gawping at his friend and therefore did not hear the door open behind him or the near-silent tread of Erik’s work-boots on the grid as the Head Electrician padded over to stand behind him.  Alex _did_ feelit when a wrench was plopped unceremoniously on his stomach.  He looked up, indignant, to see Erik’s cool, appraising eyes glowering down at him. 

         “If you have time to lounge around on the grid and harass the sound crew, you have time to hang lights. Secure your wrench and follow me.” He then walked off, leaving Alex to follow him and get shanghaied into wrestling lights for the rest of the afternoon, or sneak off and possibly face Erik’s wrath at a later date.

         Alex hung lights.

…

         “Update on Operation Bambi’s Mom,” Alex interrupted Hank yet again, trailing after him as the other boy dealt with the speakers under the audience seating platforms.

         “What now?” Hank asked blandly.

         “The Sportsman’s Warehouse deal fell through.  I have to fix the deer we have.” 

         “How?” Hank, bless his little heart, actually looked as perplexed by this notion as Alex was. Actually, he was probably _more_ perplexed. Alex had skipped the confusion step and dived straight into frustration. 

         “I don’t know, but Charles has some ideas.” 

         “That’s good,” Hank offered.

         Alex pulled a face, “We all know how Charles’ ‘ideas’ can be.” 

         Hank grimaced too, but shrugged, “It could work out okay.  At least Charles is helping.”

         “Yeah,” Alex stretched, cracking his shoulders, “Well, might as well head back to the shop and see if mommy and daddy are done fighting.” 

         “What?” Hank asked, actually looking up from the speaker this time.

         “Oh, yeah, Charles tried something with a welding torch and maybe set himself on fire.  He’s okay, only a little scorched.  Erik’s been grumbling at him ever since they got the fire out. Now they’re just bickering about how best to address The Deer Situation.” 

         “And Erik was in the shop because…?”

         Alex shrugged, “He’s got, like, a Charles-sense or something.  Charles does something dumb, bam!  There’s Erik, ready to put out the fire and do first aid.” 

         “And fight about how to properly reattach a deer’s head to it’s body,” Hank said flatly.

         “Yeah.  But to be fair, they’re also arguing about the ear and the baldness problems too.” 

         “Delightful.”

…

         “I think the deer looks lovely,” Charles beamed.  A little clump of theatre majors sat in the back of the audience, watching the opening night performance unfold before them.

         “It appears on stage for one scene.”

         “Yes, you knew that, Alex, you read the script.”

         “One fucking scene. And it’s short. It’s a fucking short one scene.”

         “I told you I knew a better way to reattach the head,” Erik said smugly from Charles’ other side.

         “Yes, yes, you were right,” Charles said, absent and placating all at the same time.

         “Shut up, all three of you,” Raven hissed at them, “Or talk about how spectacular the costumes look. I slaved over those.”

         “Can we save the my-studio-is-better-than-your-studio stuff for the cast party, when we’re all drunker?” Hank said plaintively from Alex’s other side, effectively shutting them up for the rest of the performance. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this fic was based on true events. I've taken some liberties with some of the details, but the essential story of trying to acquire a taxidermied animal for a theatre because the one we already have has a series of bizarre problems is based on real life events that happened to me and some of my friends and acquaintances. :) 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed this little ficlet and please do review if you have the time, I really do appreciate it!


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